


The Haunted Loo

by Lbilover



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Halloween, Haunting, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbilover/pseuds/Lbilover
Summary: Arthur is convinced that Gerti is haunted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You can take this as budding Douglas/Martin or simply Douglas and Martin friendship. Your druthers. :-)

Carolyn, Martin and Douglas were in the MJN portacabin, gathering their belongings before going their separate ways for the evening, when the door burst open and Arthur rushed in, wild-eyed and breathless.

"Guys, guys!" he panted. "I think Gerti's haunted!"

"Haunted?" repeated Douglas with a skeptical lift of his eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Arthur," Martin said. "Gerti isn't haunted."

"But she is, she is, I _swear_ ," Arthur insisted, practically vibrating in place.

"Dear heart, calm _down_ ," soothed his mother. "Now, what makes you think Gerti is haunted?"

"Well, I just started hoovering the cabin when all of a sudden the lights started to flicker."

Douglas snorted. "Just another bit falling off the old girl. Something electrical this time, no doubt."

Arthur vehemently shook his head. "I thought like you did at first, Douglas. I thought, _Oh, poor old Gerti, another bit's fallen off_. But then the loo door started banging open and shut, and no bit falling off could make _that_ happen, so I switched off the Hoover and went to investigate."

Martin said in surprise, "That was very brave of you, Arthur."

"Not really, Skip," Arthur replied, "because I wasn't thinking about ghosts and haunting, even if it is Halloween tomorrow - not that that matters," he added in an aggrieved voice, "because, _incredibly_ , Mum is making us work and I won't get to wear a costume or trick or treat or _anything_. I just thought there was a window open."

"A _window_ open? In the loo of an airplane?" Douglas asked incredulously.

"I might have missed it."

"What, in the one thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven times you've been inside the loo?"

"Wow, Douglas, I didn't realise you'd counted."

"I'm very sure he didn't, Arthur," said Carolyn, shooting Douglas a death-glare, "and would you please get back to your story?"

"Sorry, Mum. Anyway, like I said, I went to investigate, and when I got to the loo, I heard a loud moan. It sounded exactly like this: _Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_."

"A couple of passengers stayed behind to have sex, did they? Become members of the Zero Altitude Club?" said Douglas dryly.

"Doug-las..." Carolyn's death-glare intensified.

"No, there was no one in there," replied Arthur, oblivious. "Or... I thought there wasn't." There was a dramatic pause. "Guys, you'll never guess what happened next."

"The cast of _The Lion King_ emerged singing 'Hakuna Matata'?" Douglas suggested irrepressibly.

But Arthur was still oblivious. "I saw a ghost!" he exclaimed.

"A ghost." Martin gave Arthur a quizzical look.

"Yes! It was _amazing_ , Skip. Just like in a haunted house. You know, all in white, with two big black holes where the eyes should be, and it was waving its arms and moaning..."

"That sounds pretty scary."

"Scary? Are you mad? It wasn't scary, Skip, it was _brilliant_! You have to come with me right now and see the ghost! All of you!"

"Very well, if you insist," Carolyn said with resignation, as one who knew the futility of arguing. "Although I hope you won't be disappointed if it's gone when we get there."

"I have a man with a van job on in a couple of hours," Martin said. "But... oh, what the hell, I'll come."

"Brilliant, Skip! What about you, Douglas?"

"Sorry, Arthur, but I'm afraid no ectoplasmatic manifestation can compete with the entirely real piscine experience awaiting me at Mai Sushi."

Martin snorted derisively. "In other words, Douglas, you're scared."

"You have to believe in ghosts to be scared, Martin, and I don't happen to. Not Arthur's kind of ghost, anyway."

"You'll believe once you've see what's in Gerti's loo," said Arthur with relish.

Douglas gave an exaggerated shudder. "Now there's a proposition to frighten the most stalwart soul, even without a ghost. I'll give that particular treat a pass, thanks."

Arthur's face fell. "But Douglas, you _have_ to come. It'll only take a minute."

"A minute of my life that once gone I will never get back," Douglas pointed out with perfect truth. But he proved no more resistant to Arthur's pleading puppy eyes than the others, and finally caved. "Oh, very well. I'll come."

Arthur beamed. "Brilliant!"

~~~~

"All right, Arthur, lead us to the haunted loo," said Douglas as they crossed the tarmac to Gerti.

"Gosh, I hope Mum isn't right and the ghost is gone," Arthur said worriedly. "I mean, it's not every day you get to meet a ghost, especially in an airplane loo."

"Truer words were never spoken," Douglas agreed.

"Isn't there a ghost in the loo at Hogwarts?" Martin suddenly asked.

"Hogwarts?" Arthur said. "What's that?"

"D'you mean you've never read the Harry Potter books?" Martin was incredulous. "I thought it was now a requirement for being British."

"No, I've only ever read _White Fang_."

"Twice," Douglas pointed out helpfully. "But yes, to answer your question, Martin, there is a ghost in the loo at Hogwarts. Moaning Myrtle."

"Oh, right. Thank you, Douglas."

"If Gerti's ghost is anything like Moaning Myrtle, we're having it removed at once," Carolyn said. "It's bad enough listening to the passengers whine. I'm damned if I'm going to listen to a ghost whine, too."

"Based on Arthur's impression, it wasn't whining but having an orgasm. And you seem remarkably certain that there actually _is_ a ghost in the loo," commented Douglas as they started up the metal steps to Gerti's cabin.

"Do I?"

"Yes, you do, and you're the last person I'd ever expect to believe in the supernatural."

"I have to agree with Douglas, Carolyn."

"Thank you both. I think," replied Carolyn tartly. "But as Shakespeare wrote, _There are more things in heaven and earth_..."

"Gerti's loo qualifies as neither, however," Douglas pointed out. "Possibly hell, but Shakespeare didn't elaborate."

"Guys, you're not getting into the spirit of this at all!" Arthur complained, stopping in the doorway so abruptly that Martin, immediately behind him, smacked his nose in the middle of Arthur's back.

"Ow!" Martin exclaimed, his hand flying to his nose. "Thad hurd."

"Sorry, Skip. But honestly, there's a ghost in Gerti's loo, and you lot are babbling on about some guy shaking a spear in hell!"

"Lo! How the mighty have fallen," Douglas lamented. "Poor old Will Shake the Spear. Not how he imagined he'd be immortalised."

"Douglas, sometimes you make no sense." With that parting shot, Arthur bounded inside Gerti.

"Uh, pot calling the kettle?" said Martin.

"More like kettle calling the... you know, even I can't come up with an appropriate simile."

"Then stop trying, for goodness' sake, and follow Arthur." Carolyn gave Douglas an impatient shove, propelling him into Martin, who staggered into the cabin, still dabbing at his nose with a tissue.

The interior of Gerti appeared decidedly unhaunted, and smelled not of fire and brimstone but Febreze. She would never win any beauty awards, no matter how industriously Arthur hoovered and dusted her, but the broken or missing bits were the result of age, use and too many stag parties, not rampaging zombies.

Arthur didn't hesitate but trotted back through the cabin toward the loo.

"Anyone would think there was a pot of gold waiting in there, not a scary ghost," said Martin.

"That's my boy for you," Carolyn said. "He's been like this ever since he was a child."

"Since he was a child?" Douglas said. "I think the key here, Carolyn, is that he has never stopped being a child in many respects."

"I sort of envy him," said Martin ruefully. "I'm scared of everything."

Douglas replied with surprising gentleness, "Not everything. You're braver than you know, Martin."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Can we save the ego-boosting seminar for another time?" Carolyn suggested, and gave Douglas another push.

The three of them joined Arthur outside the loo door, which was shut tight, the green vacant sign showing. Arthur, his face alight with excitement, looked from Martin to Douglas to Carolyn. "Are you ready?" he asked, grasping the handle.

"As ready as we will ever be," Carolyn replied.

"All right. One, two, three..." Arthur slid the handle to the right and pushed.

The door folded inward, revealing tidy, utilitarian stainless steel and plastic, but not a shred of ectoplasm.

Silence fell, the silence of four enthralled people holding their breaths. Seconds ticked past.

Douglas was the first to release his breath. "So much for Gerti's ghost," he began, but stopped when the plane's interior lights suddenly began to flash off and on. "What the-"

The lights went out. An eerie moan sounded from behind them. As one, Douglas, Martin, Carolyn and Arthur turned around.

There, in the centre of the cabin aisle, was the ghost, exactly as Arthur had described it: all in white, with two big black holes where the eyes should be, and it was waving its arms and moaning, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." It appeared to float, disembodied, in the darkness.

Douglas let out an involuntary shriek. It was a high-pitched, extremely un-Douglas-Richardsonian shriek, one that he fervently hoped would go unnoticed when Martin shrieked even louder. After which the gallant Captain Crieff's eyes rolled back in their sockets and he passed out cold. He fell backward, hitting his head on the wall, and slid limply down until his bum met the floor with a thud. The brim of his captain's cap slipped down, covering his abused nose.

"Good lord, Martin!" Douglas exclaimed, dropping to his knees beside the unconscious pilot, the ghost and his own shriek forgotten in his concern.

"Brilliant!" shouted Arthur, unaware of the small drama behind him. "I told you Gerti was haunted!"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," moaned the ghost, flapping its arms harder. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Oh, shut up, do!" Carolyn snapped. "Can't you see we've got a fainted pilot on our hands?"

The ghost subsided. "Sorry, Mrs. Knapp-Shappey," a muffled voice said.

"Philip?" squeaked Arthur, recognising the voice. "You're a ghost? I had no idea."

"Of course he's not a ghost," his mother said in exasperation. "I hired him to play one for you. I thought it would make up for us having to fly tomorrow if I could give you a nice Halloween surprise."

"Ohhh..." Arthur deflated with disappointment like a punctured balloon, then brightened. "Still, it's a brilliant surprise, Mum. Thank you! And Philip, I totally believed you were a real ghost! Brilliant!"

"You did?" Philip sounded pleased.

"And so did poor Martin here," Douglas grumbled tetchily, removing Martin's cap. "Did you have to be quite so ghostly?"

"Sorry, Douglas," Philip said. He pulled off the sheet, revealing a shock of messy hair and a contrite expression. "Is Captain Crieff all right?"

Arthur finally noticed his felled captain. "Oh gosh, poor Skip! I'll get him some water." He rushed off to the galley.

Douglas gave Martin a gentle slap on the cheek. "Martin, Martin," he called. "Wake up."

Martin stirred feebly. He let out a little moan. "Wh-what happened?" he asked, struggling to sit up.

Douglas slid a supportive arm around Martin. "Easy does it," he said. "And in answer to your question, you were understandably startled by the sudden appearance of a ghost in the cabin. You jumped, lost your balance and hit your head on the wall, knocking yourself out."

"Did he now?" Carolyn said with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, he did," Douglas replied implacably.

"A ghost?" Martin was clearly still dazed and confused.

"That would be me, Captain Crieff," Philip said, indicating the white sheet now draped over his arm. "I'm awful sorry for..." he glanced at Douglas, "causing you to trip and hit your head."

"Oh. Well." Martin gave him a wan smile. "That's all right, Philip. I'm sure you didn't mean to make me, uh, trip and hit my head."

"Speaking of, how is your head?" Douglas asked.

Martin gingerly felt the back of his skull. "There's a little lump, but not too bad." He sighed. "I've had worse."

"Still, hitting your head is never something to take lightly. I'd better give you a lift home."

"I can't," Martin said. "I have a man with a van job on."

"You had a man with a van job on. It's mine now." Douglas spoke in a brook-no-argument tone. "With Arthur, of course, to do any lifting and shoving that is required."

"What about your sushi?" Martin asked.

"It can wait for another day."

Martin gave Douglas a strange look. "Why, Douglas, anyone would think you cared."

Douglas's cheeks reddened. "You're my captain. Of course I care."

"That's news to me," said Martin, but he sounded decidedly pleased.

Carolyn, who had maintained a heroic silence throughout this exchange, emitted a loud snort. Fortunately for Douglas, Arthur chose that moment to return with the water as well as two paracetamol.

"Here you go, Skip," Arthur said, handing them to Martin. "And I got an ice pack from the first-aid kit."

"Give it here, Arthur," Douglas commanded. He expertly punched the ice pack and shook it to activate it.

"You certainly know your way around an ice pack, Douglas," Carolyn remarked.

"Yes, well, there's very little I don't know my way around at this stage of my life. I'll take the glass, Martin. Hold this ice pack over the lump." Douglas returned the glass to Arthur, then stood, hands on hips, and glowered at Carolyn. "Honestly, Carolyn, whatever possessed you to play such a childish trick?"

"That's pretty rich coming from you, the man who dropped a sugar brick on his own daughter's birthday party," Carolyn retorted with spirit. "Besides, is it my fault Martin, ah, tripped and hit his head? That wasn't part of the plan. It was just supposed to be a nice, run-of-the-mill spooky encounter with a ghost - for Arthur's amusement. And you must admit that Philip did his job admirably."

"Better than his attempts at keeping me from stealing your Talisker, certainly," Douglas agreed.

"Ouch," Philip said.

"It was brilliant," said Arthur. "I especially liked how you screamed Douglas. Just like a girl."

"I didn't scream," replied Douglas with the dignity of desperation, "and certainly not like a girl..." Three sets of raised eyebrows defeated him, and he quickly changed the topic. "Martin, let's get you up. Arthur, give me a hand here." Together, Douglas and Arthur helped Martin to his feet.

"I'm perfectly fine," protested Martin, and proved it by swaying and staggering.

"Yes, I can see how perfectly fine you are," Douglas said dryly. "Now shut up and come with me."

Martin did, with surprising meekness, one hand still holding the ice pack to the lump on the back of his head, the other clutching the sleeve of Douglas's jacket as they departed Gerti. Arthur followed, carrying Martin's hat. He was talking a mile a minute, his conversation punctuated by 'amazing' and 'brilliant'.

Carolyn locked up Gerti and then pulled an envelope from her pocket. "Here you are," she said to Philip. "One hundred pounds. Perhaps things didn't go quite as planned, but," she looked over to where Martin was climbing into the passenger seat of his white van, whilst Douglas hovered near him like an anxious mother hen, "sometimes it's all for the best, isn't it?"

"I reckon," replied Philip, mystified, but more interested in the envelope he held than puzzling out Carolyn's cryptic words.

"Well, good night, Philip," Carolyn said, and strode briskly toward the portacabin.

"Night, Mrs. Knapp-Shappey," Philip called after her. He was relieved that she hadn't cut up funny about him being so late. In fact, by the time he got into the ghost costume and inside the plane, she and the others were already there. He'd expected her to ream him out for not hiding in the loo and scaring Arthur first, the way they'd planned, and possibly even refuse to pay him. But all was well that ended well, and she seemed pleased enough with his performance, abbreviated or not.

Whistling, Philip tucked away the envelope and strode to his car. As he did, Douglas drove away with Martin and Arthur, and Carolyn went inside the portacabin and shut the door behind her.

Which is why none of them saw Gerti's lights flash on and off, or the ghostly white figure that flitted past her windows with an eerie moan.

~end~


End file.
